Les actions, non les mots

I need to stop hurting my head.
I need to stop hurting my hips.
I need to stop being such a fucking math genius (apparently).
(Except not.)

Also, DNA, just go replicate yourself already, because Lyndsay doesn't care.

Also, I do care. I promise.
My mind is screwing with my body, possibly because of an overdose of vitamin C, possibly because...
Yeah, not going there.

Stress is actually screwing with me this time. So are baggy sweaters. I really want one of those comfy, ugly sweaters that actually are adorable. Why don't I have one of those? Can I find one, or do they have to be passed on like a tradition or a kiss?

Next, for my Olive, who has stumbled upon hard times; this reminded me of you.

All of us food groups will always be there to pull you out of the rain.